


We'll Dance Until the Night Turns Red Again

by writteninblood



Series: Never the Same [5]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: American Sign Language, Confessions, Dadwald, Enemies to Friends, Family, Fluff, Glitter, M/M, Movie Night, Murder Dads, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Pining, Reconciliation, Teaching, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writteninblood/pseuds/writteninblood
Summary: Edward and Oswald gradually begin to mend their broken friendship.





	We'll Dance Until the Night Turns Red Again

The next time Edward arrives at the Iceberg Lounge, there’s a big grin on his face and a spring in his step. But the most noticeable thing of all is the large gold item he’s brandishing theatrically as he approaches Oswald, who’s sitting on a stool by the bar, watching him and trying not to smile.

“What in _god’s_ name is that?” Oswald asks, amused.

“My newest accessory!” Edward performs a little pirouette. “Do you like it?”

Oswald smiles despite himself. “It’s certainly… eye-catching.”

Edward’s smile widens. “Isn’t it?”

Edward’s childish joy is infectious and Oswald finds himself held captive by the rare spectacle of Edward being unabashedly happy.

“Martin! Look what I invented!” Edward says when he notices him enter the main room.

 _What is it?_ Martin writes on his notepad.

“It’s my new cane!” He grins, crouching so he can meet Martin at his own height. He holds out the cane with both his hands, and ceremonially places it in Martin’s waiting hands. The gold reflects off his face and he holds it with a careful reverence that suggests he understands its great importance to Edward.

Oswald takes the opportunity to observe Edward as he watches Martin and is utterly taken aback by the warmth and affection in his eyes. Edward leans in so he can whisper something in Martin’s ear and before Oswald knows what’s happening the question mark end of the cane is being pointed at his legs and Martin is pressing a small button under the question point.

A small puff of glitter emits from the top end of the arch and covers Oswald’s shoes. Edward laughs and his hands are actually flailing as though his body can’t contain the sheer amount of glee he’s experiencing.

“That function’s just for fun really,” Edward says, still grinning impossibly widely.

Oswald looks down at his shoes and moves his feet slightly, noticing the way they sparkle. Almost as much as Edward’s favourite jacket, which he unfortunately is not wearing today. Oswald purses his lips and then looks at the two guilty pranksters. Martin has a hand across his mouth, his eyes full of mirth. Edward is crouched at his side, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

He raises his eyebrows and tries to muster some annoyance. “ _Really_ , Ed?”

“Everything looks better with glitter,” Edward says, standing up and taking his cane back from Martin. “Shall we get started with our lesson?”

Martin nods and heads to the study, and Edward casts one more amused glance at Oswald’s shoes, then at his face, before following Martin into the study.

Oswald looks down at his glitter covered shoes and the floor that’s going to need cleaning and thinks this is probably what life with Edward and Martin would be like, if Edward lived with them. He imagines the elaborate pranks they would execute given the time to plan them. As he goes to change his shoes, he thinks it’s a good job that isn’t the life he wants.

*

Oswald hears Edward and Martin come out of the study from his office and tries to time his exit to look like he wasn’t waiting until the earliest second he could see Edward again.

“Ah, Oswald, I wondered if I might ask you something?” Edward says when he catches sight of him.

“As long as it doesn’t involve more glitter, I’m all ears,” Oswald replies cautiously. Edward and Martin exchange a smirk.

“No more glitter,” Edward promises. “I wondered if you would be amenable to me teaching Martin sign language? It would make it much faster for us to communicate and save him having to write notes all the time. I already took ten minutes from today’s lesson to start with the basics. I hope I haven’t been too presumptuous, but I really think it would be beneficial for—”

“—Yes of course you can,” Oswald interrupts. “Would you teach me too?” he adds before he can stop himself. Then he shakes his head, embarrassed. “My apologies, forget I said that. I can of course hire someone. Martin, go upstairs and get washed up for dinner.”

Martin looks a bit confused at Oswald’s backtracking and sudden downswing in mood but he does something with his hands—sign language—in Edward’s direction, signing goodbye he supposes, before turning and heading upstairs.

“I’m sorry,” Oswald says again. “Sometimes I forget you’re only here to teach Martin.”

Edward twists his cane in his hands. “I can teach you. Perhaps a short lesson after movie night? I mean, being able to communicate faster with you _would_ help Martin a great deal…”

Oswald’s head snaps up from Edward’s hands fiddling with his cane to his face. “I would be very grateful for any assistance you would be willing to provide. To help Martin, of course.”

“That’s settled then,” Edward says, clearing his throat and turning to leave.

“Thank you, Ed,” Oswald says, overwhelmed with gratitude. “I know none of this is for me. But Martin is my boy, and what means a lot to him means a lot to me. I know you’ve never sought my gratitude and probably don’t want it. But thank you. Truly.”

Oswald thinks the most he can hope for is Ed simply walking away without a retort about how he doesn’t need Oswald’s thanks, but he pauses and turns back to him and for a split second the expression on his face is vulnerable.

“You’re welcome.” His face is hard to read and he turns to go before Oswald can attempt to analyse it. He pauses before the double doors and lifts his cane, making a show of pressing a button before disappearing out the door in a literal cascade of shiny silver confetti, his laughter echoing off the walls.

Oswald blinks several times at the man’s ridiculousness before allowing himself a smile. Edward had been kind and polite instead of retaliatory and defensive; a very pleasant continuation of their unofficial tentative truce that had begun at the end of the first movie night. Oswald scarcely dares to hope, but he already knows that any notion he had of emotional detachment from Edward is gone, and that he desperately wants this to continue to evolve into a friendship.

He looks down at the confetti strewn all around the club’s entrance and sighs. Yet another sparkly mess to clean up. He hopes the man doesn’t make a habit of it.

*

When Oswald arrives in the movie room a little late, having had to finalise a business transaction (which resulted in a very enjoyable little murder), he discovers Martin sitting in the space he’d occupied the previous week, Edward by his side. Oswald has no choice but to sit on the Ed’s other side, leaving the man stuck between two Cobblepots.

The movie Martin has chosen for their second movie night is one that only Martin has seen before. Oswald is completely enchanted with it from the very beginning.

“Isn’t it bizarre how like Gotham Halloween Town is?” Oswald comments, only to be shushed aggressively by Edward who is even more invested than he is. Oswald glances at Martin behind Edward’s back and raises his eyebrows; Martin grins and shrugs in response.

Oswald wonders if Edward can relate to Jack’s identity crisis and ponders if that’s why he’s so engrossed in the film. Oswald finds it endearing how he’s sitting forward on his seat, has barely even moved since the film began. Sometimes it’s difficult to believe he’s one of the most ferocious men in Gotham City.

Everything’s going fine until the rag doll sings her pining song; the words resonate a little too deeply with Oswald, and he fidgets awkwardly, glad that he’s sitting further back in the seat, unobserved by Edward. He can’t see much of him from this angle, but he can tell Edward is absolutely enraptured; he’s not even really communicating with Martin, so dazzled is he by what he’s seeing on screen.

When the film draws to its predictably rosy conclusion, Edward remains staring at the screen. Oswald decides to allow him some time to gather himself and tells Martin it’s time to go to bed.

Martin nods his acquiescence and gets up, hesitatingly putting his hand on Edward’s shoulder. When he gets Edward’s attention he signs goodbye, and Oswald catalogues how he does it. Edward signs it back. Martin looks to Oswald and goes to pick up his notepad, but Oswald holds out his hand to stop him before repeating what Martin had just done. Martin’s face lights up and he runs over to hug Oswald.

When Martin heads upstairs, Oswald hazards a look at Edward, who _almost_ looks like he’s smiling. But mostly he just looks like he’s trying to process what he’s seeing, as he usually does when he witnesses Oswald and Martin’s interactions.

Oswald clears his throat. “Shall we get started?”

Edward looks confused for a moment before realising what Oswald is talking about.

“Right, sign language. Okay, we’ll start with the basics, I’ll sign the alphabet and you just copy my hand positions. We’ll go through it twice since repetition helps memory retention.”

It goes smoothly enough until they get to the letter ‘P’ – Oswald puts his thumb and forefinger together instead of his thumb and middle finger, and when Edward tells him what he’s doing wrong, his fingers won’t seem to cooperate. His fingers flail about uselessly, and he’s about to take control of the situation by using his other hand, when Edward takes his hand in both of his own and starts to adjust Oswald’s fingers himself. Oswald jumps the moment their hands make contact, and Edward eyes him curiously. His heart has started pounding faster; Edward is _touching_ him. He averts his gaze and concentrates on their hands as Edward shows him how to sign the awkward letter.

“Keep the rest of your fingers bent like this,” Edward says, pushing down Oswald’s little finger when it reflexively sticks out. “Why do you keep doing that?”

Oswald cringes when both the smaller fingers stick out again once Edward takes his hands away.

“ _No_ Oswald. Keep all the fingers _except_ the pointing finger _down_. This really is quite simple. Martin managed to repeat and memorise on the first go.” Edward is starting to sound irate, which in turn ruffles Oswald’s feathers.

He heaves a sigh, flexing his whole hand before offering Edward a sign of his own. “Do you know what _this_ means, Ed?”

Edward raises his eyebrows, and his lips twitch as if trying to hold back a smirk.

“This is why you can’t hire anyone to teach you this, Oswald. Nobody else can withstand your temper and impatience.”

“That’s true,” Oswald replies easily, without thinking. “You did always know how to calm me down.”

He catches both himself and Edward off-guard with that kind sentiment. Edward smiles tentatively, and it’s the first affectionate look Edward has given him in a _very_ long time. Oswald has no idea what his own face is doing; all he knows is that he’s afraid to move, afraid to shatter the moment.

Oswald’s hands are still hovering awkwardly in the air, waiting for their next sign command, and he belatedly notices that Edward’s hands seem to have covered the distance between them as they stare at each other, for he now holds Oswald’s hands in his; the pads of his fingers idly ghosting over the dips between knuckles.

Oswald isn’t sure what to do about Edward’s gentle touches, so naturally, he panics.

“Um, Ed...” Oswald looks down at their hands. “Should we continue with the alphabet?”

Edward blinks several times in rapid succession, before looking down also looking at their hands. He seems shocked by what he’s seeing, as if his hands had acted independently of him. He hurriedly retracts them and Oswald feels simultaneously disappointed and relieved.

The rest of the lesson passes without incident. After the second run-through, Oswald manages to recite the alphabet from memory correctly, and Edward seems pleased.

“I’ve left a book with Martin in the study. I want you to read the first three chapters in time for our next lesson.”

“You’re assigning me homework?” Oswald asks, raising an eyebrow. For some reason the student-teacher dynamic is making him nervous.

“Yes. Given the slow pace with which you process instruction during our lessons, the only way you’re going to learn is if you complement them with self-study.”

 _It might help if you didn’t confuse me with hand-touching and insults about my intellect _,__ Oswald thinks.

Oswald takes a deep breath. “All right, I can do that.”

“Good.” Is all Edward replies.

He gets up, grabs his cane and heads upstairs, Oswald following to see him out. He turns back just before the doors.

“I like coming here,” he says, that vulnerable look back again. “Which I never thought I would, you know, after...”

 _After I was humiliated as an ice sculpture for several months_ is what he doesn’t say and doesn’t need to. The words hang in the air between them.

“I’m glad.” Oswald pauses, wondering whether to plough ahead with what he wants to say next. Fortune favours the bold. “You’re always welcome here, Ed. Not just for lessons or movie night. You can come here whenever you wish.”

His bravery is rewarded with a toothy grin. “Goodnight Oswald.” And he slips out the double doors before Oswald can respond.

“Goodnight, my friend,” Oswald says to the swinging door.

He checks on Martin before he heads to his own bedroom. After changing into his pyjamas, he lays down in bed and stares up at the ceiling.

What a nice evening it had been. Not a single malicious word from Edward besides the gentle ribbing. He holds his hands together against his chest, remembering the way Edward had held them. Does Edward miss the way they used to reassure each other with touch too? Their hugs had been wonderful, and Oswald often thinks of them with a great longing.

And Edward hadn’t outright rejected his open invitation either. He feels hope like never before, and finds that he can’t wait to see Edward again.

It needs to be Thursday now.

__*_ _

Despite the fact it’s Wednesday night, the Iceberg Lounge is packed wall-to-wall with an ever-growing and hopeful line outside. The venue has become something of a tourist attraction in Gotham, so Oswald has had to hire extra door staff to weed them out; he doesn’t want the ordinary riff-raff at his club. The Iceberg Lounge is a place for the weird and extraordinary, not the boring and pedestrian.

He’s instructed his door staff to let Edward Nygma queue jump and be allowed straight in, if he should come by. Oswald doubts he will, but he doesn’t want anything to ruin their new and fragile friendship, thus isn’t going to take any chances.

So, Oswald is more than a little surprised he sees something sparkly in the corner of his eye whilst chatting to Poison Ivy.

“ _Hello?_ Earth to Penguin?” she says, waving her arms in his face.

Even though she’s different now, some of her childish tendencies have remained.

“I’m sorry Ivy, you’ll have to excuse me.” He mutters distractedly, without looking at her. He limps around her and through the crowd towards Edward, who’s looking around as if trying to find someone. Then his eyes land on Oswald and he grins; Edward was trying to find _him_.

“I’m so happy you could visit,” Oswald shouts over the music. “Would you like a drink?”

Edward nods and follows him to the bar. One of the servers immediately attends to him. Oswald nods to Edward gesturing for him to order first. He asks for a grasshopper and Oswald requests his usual. Once they have their drinks, Oswald motions for Edward to follow him. He leads him to the roped off VIP section, where he has his own booth. As they move through the crowd, people openly stare. This is after all Edward’s first visit during opening hours. At least as a fully functional walking, talking human being. It’s also the first time Edward and Oswald have been seen together in public since they worked with the other Rogues to take Sofia Falcone down.

When they take seats at Oswald’s booth, people don’t stop staring. Even though the music is loud, he still can hear the excited tone of their tittering.

As Edward daintily takes a sip of his drink, Oswald notices the fact he’s wearing purple gloves. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Edward wear a colour other than black or green.

“So, have you done your homework?”

“Really, Ed? Only you would come to a club and ask about my academic progress.”

“Have you?” Edward asks, attempting to hide his smile behind his drink.

Oswald looks sheepish. He signs ‘no’ and Edward laughs.

“I have read the first two chapters. I was going to read the third at breakfast tomorrow.”

Edward still hasn’t stopped smirking.

“I will! I’m a busy man!”

They’re silent for a few moments as they observe the party-goers.

“So, who comes here? I thought I saw you talking to Poison Ivy over there…”

“You did. She’s a regular, although I have to keep an eye on her because she can be as light-fingered as Selina Kyle. Most of the Rogues have made an appearance at some point. It’s a safe haven for them.”

“Well you’ve certainly made more of a success of this club than you did with the first one.”

Oswald furrows his brows and drains the last of his whiskey. “How do you know about that?”

Edward simply winks in response and sips at his drink.

“Well, I guess I have you to thank for that, in a way.” As soon as he says it he regrets it, Edward’s being the frozen inspiration for the theme of the club skirts too close to what they never talk about.

“I’m honoured,” Edward says, choosing the safer path. “I wish I’d been frozen with a better expression on my face though. From the photographs, I look like a dog jumping to catch a Frisbee.”

That comment is so unexpected, Oswald laughs as he signals to the staff for more drinks. Edward finishes his grasshopper and starts on the next one, seemingly working up the courage to ask something.

“Did you ever talk to me while I was in there?”

Oswald wonders if he somehow knows. “Why would I do that? What would be the point in talking to someone who can’t answer back?”

“It was strange,” Edward says. “It was like being in a coma, at least from what I’ve read, since I’d never been in a coma. I don’t remember much of it except for fragments, but all the fragments I can recall were your blurry outline. Standing by the ice. Obviously, I couldn’t actually see you. It was all inside my head. But people in comas can recognise familiar voices if they hear them regularly...”

Oswald may as well admit it now. “I talked to you every day.”

Edward nods thoughtfully and idly traces the condensation on the side of his glass. “Do you think you ever would have thawed me out, if it hadn’t been for Myrtle?”

Oswald finishes the last of his second glass of whiskey. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I had no plans to do so any time soon when she took you.”

More drinks appear and Oswald doesn’t waste time throwing more back; he needs it to fortify him for this conversation.

“When you say my name, I am no longer there. What am I?”

“Silence,” Oswald answers after a couple of moments.

Edward nods, his expression pleased the way it always is when someone answers one of his riddles. “Surely you would have gotten bored with silence after a time?”

Oswald snorts. “You’d be surprised how satisfying silence is from you.”

Edward raises his eyebrows, gesturing to himself and exaggerating an offended expression.

“Oswald…” He says in that admonishing way he used so effectively when he was chief of staff.

Oswald takes a long swig of whiskey. “The point was that you could never leave me or hurt me again.”

Edward stops all movement with his drink halfway to his mouth, and turns to look at Oswald, who boldly meets his eyes. It feels good to have laid his cards on the table, if slightly terrifying.

The silence following that statement goes on for a worryingly long time and Oswald starts to become flustered and panicked, while Edward just sits there, cool and unmoving. Oswald is gearing up for a complete change of topic when Edward looks away from him and toward the plinth he used to stand on as he says, “and yet, here we are.” He turns back to look at Oswald and gives him a small smile. “Breaking the ice.”

Oswald closes his eyes in second-hand embarrassment. “That was terrible, Ed, even by your standards.”

Edward preens as if that was a compliment.

After that they navigate the conversation to the safer ground of what Edward does these days when he’s not at the Iceberg. Edward tells him about his plans to go to Europe and break into some of the most highly regarded museums and steal some pieces he’s had his eye on for a while now. Oswald asks him why he doesn’t just buy them, given the ease with which he helped himself to Oswald’s safe: he must have acquired quite a large personal wealth by now.

“It’s the challenge of their complex security systems. They’re just puzzles in a different form. And there isn’t one I can’t solve,” Edward says with confidence.

Oswald takes a while sipping from his drink to buy himself some time to admire Edward before he responds. He’s never seen Edward quite this sure of himself before and it’s, well, Oswald likes it a lot.

“I always wanted to go to Budapest,” Oswald says, starting to feel a bit woozy. “I’d like to see where my mother lived and walk the streets my ancestors did. Are you planning to go there?”

“It’s not part of the itinerary but I can add it.”

“Make sure you keep in touch with Martin while you’re away,” Oswald finishes his drink and holds up a hand to stop more being brought to him. “He will miss you.”

Edward looks at him, confused. “He will?”

“Of course he will. He thinks of you as his best friend.”

Edward looks so happy at that revelation that Oswald wants to hug him.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cobblepot?” Mr. Penn has appeared by his side. “I’m sorry to interrupt but I believe you wanted to speak with Mr. Stitches before he left.”

Oswald looks at Edward apologetically, but he speaks before Oswald gets the chance to ask him whether he minds if he goes.

“Going to try to get more information on Gallo?”

“Yes, the whole situation is most frustrating. Either no one has information, or they’re unwilling to give it, no matter what I offer or threaten them with.”

Edward hums in agreement. “I’ve been looking myself but with the same results. I fear we’re going to have wait for him to play his hand before we can make a move.”

“There will be no force on this earth that can save him if he dares to come near my boy.” Oswald says vehemently as he stands and straightens his suit jacket.

“I won’t let anything happen to him. You have my word.” Edward stands too and looks down at Oswald, his expression serious.

Oswald nods in acknowledgement, trying not to show how deeply moved he is. “See you tomorrow, Ed,” he says, before following Mr. Penn out of the VIP area.

He looks back sees Edward making his way through the crowd. As if sensing he’s being watched, he looks over his shoulder, catching Oswald’s eye and smiling.

*

The following evening, while Edward is with Martin in the study, Oswald is looking through the deeds to the Iceberg Lounge. Without any kind of warning, the lights go out, along with the power. Moments later, his panic button starts going off; only Martin can activate it. He had given it to Martin so that Oswald would be immediately alerted when he was in distress. He opens the bottom drawer to his desk and retrieves two guns, tucking one into his belt. Finally, he grabs the knife from the head of his cane.

At that moment, he hears the double doors to the club being forced open, accompanied by the sound gunshots and shouting: they are under attack. He hastily leaves the office for the study, and seeing the silhouettes of people streaming into the main room of the club, he throws himself at the door to the study, wrenching it open and suddenly finding himself pressed against the back of it.

“It’s me, it’s me!” he says, fumbling for his keys so he can lock the door and hold them off for a short while. Edward’s cane is pressing into his chest and it’s glowing, and he can see Edward’s face by the light of it. He looks visibly rattled. Once he sees it’s Oswald he takes a step backward and allows Oswald to lock the door. The moment he takes the key out of the lock, someone shoves themselves against the other side and Oswald jumps.

“Where’s Martin?”

“Under the table,” Edward answers, stepping back and readying himself, holding his cane aloft.

“I don’t think now is the time to parade your new fashion accessory, Ed!” Oswald says holding out his second gun.

“It’s more than that, it’s a very dangerous weapon!” Edward hisses.

“What are you going to do? Shoot at them with glitter?”

Edward takes the gun and cocks it, holding it out in one hand, the cane in the other. Oswald holds out his gun and his knife. They both stand between the table and the door.

“You’ll see,” is all Edward says as the door crashes open.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Vero for the movie choice. You're a genius XD
> 
> Title lyrics from Waterfalls by Air Traffic Controller.


End file.
